15 comments:

it's gonna take awhile for this to fully ripen in me. I was younger, too, and i was the boy on the dolly keeping the cooler stocked. And i remember the girls in the kitchen. now it all seems different than it did way back then. I know that's not really what you're writing about, but then, me neither.Thanks for the memoriesrick

You are making a knife slice through more than letuce here, through layers of experience and the heart. The structure is perfect; a controlled, detailed, narrative followed by such intense emotion, like the soft red tomatoes full of juice nestled in their dry, transitory, tasteless cardboard sleeves--it knocks the reader back ten feet and is like that moment where everything is supposed to flash before your eyes before you die.

Yeesh.

*rubs bald pate* I look rather well with a shaved head, fortunately, but the stubble is a bitch...

Love this line: "As if my hands hummed with lullabies." And this: "I lined them in a row like nursery babies."

"That lovers remember the wine, not the greens;The sugar, not the side plate" ... Sad but true.

What a great little hyphenated word: "cut-scars"

"I thought there was no harm in staying on through another fall" ... One fall can turn into many, many falls. I like the possible double (or triple) meaning in "fall" here.

This is like being a wife and mother---running a kitchen (restauraunt). Funny how in family, friendship, love, or whatever, you think you're being your best giving exactly what someone needs. But really, they want wine and you're offering salad. They want dessert, and you give peas. Most of all, I guess everyone just wants kindness and a gentle spirit. But we all have our own agendas, our own lists of what's most important and what we want to accomplish.

Those last two lines are weighty and could mean a number of things. But it certainly feels like you are left empty-handed, and perhaps owing something when you really have nothing left to give.

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“I'd rather sing one wild song and burst my heart with it, than live a thousand years watching my digestion and being afraid of the wet.” ― Jack London, The Turtles of Tasman

"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all." — Ted Hughes

Poetry made from...

...trinkets, mojo, and double mocha latte!

Welcome to the Word Garden

The Word Garden consists of original poems written by me, Shay a.k.a. Fireblossom. Please stop a while and enjoy them. But don't pick the blooms that you find here, they must not be planted elsewhere without permission of the author.